


Keep Calm

by MulaSaWala



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 20:59:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11974902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MulaSaWala/pseuds/MulaSaWala
Summary: Root is on the way to the library and John is too far away to help Harold.





	Keep Calm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zaniida](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaniida/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Three Minutes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11827620) by [Zaniida](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaniida/pseuds/Zaniida). 



Harold listened as John spoke to Detective Fusco using a phone he'd taken from one of the thugs, giving him instructions to arrest Miss Kaur on whatever phony charges he had to (plant drugs, traffic violation, _whatever it took_ ), just keep the number safe.

Harold shouldn't have called, he knew that now. There was absolutely no way John would have stayed with the number. And a perverse part of him was happy that John was on his way.

  
  
"Harold, are you still there?"

 

John's voice came back through his earpiece. Harold let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Shakier than he wanted, but steady enough given the circumstances. Beside him, Bear whined, sensing Harold's distress. Harold buried a hand into Bear's thick fur, careful to keep his strokes light.  


"Yes, John." _'Always,'_ Harold wanted to add, but for however long Root would have him, That wouldn't be true, would it?

 

"In the drawer where we keep Bear's treats, there is a blister pack of pills labeled Nexgard Anti-tick. Have you got it?"

 

Harold stood to follow John's orders, almost stumbling in his haste.  


"I have them."

 

"Good, now take one."

 

" _What._ "

 

"It's a tracking device, Harold. Take one."  


_'Ah, of course.'_

 

"Charming packaging, John," Harold said as he swallowed two pills dry, then getting Bear to swallow one as well. "I assume there's a pun in there about persistent pests."

 

John chuckled in his ear, but even Harold could tell that it was a bit forced.

 

"Now go with Bear to the the nearest bathroom, but don't lock yourselves in."

 

As Harold limped down the hall, expecting Root to step out of every shadow along the way, he felt a tinge of deja vu, of being a rat in a maze to help out Mr. Trask.

John had come to save the day then. There was no way he would make it this time, being half an hour away at least.

 

"I'm inside the bathroom."

 

"Put me on speakers."

 

Harold did as he said, vaguely wondering what was going on. He'd called John for a few comforting words to tide him over while Root did whatever her mad brain demanded, not what felt like an elaborate scavenger hunt.

 

Once on speaker, John gave Bear an unfamiliar command which made the agitated dog spring into confident action.

 

"Harold, talk to me. Are you doing okay?"

 

"Well, at the moment I'm wondering what you've been teaching our dog while I'm away."

 

Another dry chuckle, more sincere this time. "Only the paranoid survive, Harold."

 

By this time, Bear had worked open the built-in linen closet. John had installed that himself, between numbers, as well as the shower area in one of the stalls. Bear knocked over the stacks of clean white towels on the bottom shelf, but they fell... strangely.

 

They were attached to each other somehow, so that they could be manipulated as one object. And they had a thin piece of rope attached to them, such that when they fell, they pulled open a small door. Harold gaped at the opening.

 

"What have you been doing in your spare time, John?"

 

"Being paranoid."

 

Bear began guiding Harold into the opening, insistent, like he'd done when Harold was having a panic attack in the streets. Harold dimly wondered if he was having one now, because his limbs felt like they were moving through water.

The other side of the hole was larger than Harold had expected, and Harold wondered as he crawled through what John had done on the other side of the wall to conceal this space. Harold reached over to help Bear close the doors (Of course there were two layers, John was nothing if not thorough.), his back and legs shooting pain, but between the two of them they managed, and Harold kept crawling forward, not that there was much farther to go.  
  
The "tunnel" ended in a small enclosure just tall enough for Harold to stand up straight. He could feel his hair brush the top of the enclosure, and John himself would have to keep his head bowed. Harold sat on the floor, stretching his leg out, and Bear laid himself down next to his master, keeping himself between Harold and the exit.

 

"This is really something, John," Harold said quietly, impressed. A small flicker of hope had come to life in his chest. Maybe Root wouldn't find him after all.

 

"Don't talk for now, okay? She might hear you. It would be best if we kept as quiet as possible."

 

Harold must have made a sound in the pitch darkness because John relented.

 

"I'm claustrophobic." The agent whispered. Harold pictured him in the car he'd no doubt stolen, speaking softly as he raced down the streets of New York. Harold suppressed a hysterical laugh at the mental image, focusing on John's words.

 

"It's not in my file because I wasn't always. I used to love hiding in the cupboards as a kid."

 

Harold didn't say anything, silently willing John to continue. Harold himself wasn't claustrophobic, but the air was becoming a bit stale, and the complete darkness wasn't helping. In the distance, he could hear... something. A voice. Light and feminine. He shut his eyes and covered his ears, focusing on John's voice on the other end of the line.

 

"You know the circular racks they have in department stores?" John continued. Harold kept breathing."There's a space in the middle, and when there were enough clothes on hangers, I loved standing in the middle of it."

 

Crashing sounds. Gunfire. The voice was getting closer, but not from the side where Harold had come in. Harold buried one hand in the scruff of Bear's neck, tensing.

 

Maybe John could hear it through the earpiece, because his voice was less calm when he spoke again. Harold tuned everything but that voice out. Later, Harold wouldn't be able to recall half of what John said, but for now he let the voice fill the space between his thoughts until the voice was all there was.

 

\---

 

John fell silent as he pulled right up to the library, leaving the car open, keys still in the ignition. Let someone else steal the thing. He remembered the plate number, Harold would reimburse the owner later.  
  
The agent took the stairs two, three at a time. Walked right past the room where Harold usually was, computers in pieces on the floor. He had his gun out, but the safety remained on. No doubt Root was long gone; she knew she wouldn't have survived a physical altercation with him, not under these circumstances.

What John did was check thoroughly and quickly for any surveillance equipment She might have left behind. No need to let her know how Harold had evaded her grasp.

Every door in the immediate area of the library had been thrown open, even the ones that John knew had been locked. A cursory examination revealed why; the locks had been shot off. John's heart clenched a bit, wondering what that must have been like for Harold, hearing gunshots an a place he'd come to think of as safe, huddled in the dark.

The bathroom door had been similarly left open, and so were all the stalls and the linen closet, but the stack of towels remained unmolested.

 

"Harold? I'm here. She's gone."

 

No reply.

 

John opened the crude panic room, crawling in. He hadn't had the chance to build a lock into it, relying on misdirection and the entrance being hidden.

 

"Harold?"

 

Still no answer. John felt a little panic start taking root, but then,

 

"John?"

 

John found his little bird right where he thought he'd be. A little dusty and frightened (so was John), but nonetheless okay. He pulled Harold into his arms as soon as he could, feeling the other man begin to shake. Bear leaned against them, tail wagging furiously.

 

Later, they'd have to leave the room, leave the library for good, but for now, in the darkness, they were all safe.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I messed it up. I couldn't let Root take Harold! But they did lose the library, which is also sad. T_T
> 
> It's a bit rough, and the ending is abrupt, but I was already laaate! 
> 
> Belated Happy Birthday, Zaniida! 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7JCVcDcqjPg
> 
> P.S. School is back on, so I won't be updating my fics very often for the next few months (if I update them at all), but please be assured that I haven't abandoned any of them. 
> 
> Toodles!


End file.
